My decision to become a journalist came somewhere during my sophomore year in high school. I had this amazing teacher, Mrs. Lindskog. As early as second grade I had written short stories; I read everything I could get my hands on. But Mrs. Lindskog just let me know that I knew how to capture the moment in words.
From there I joined the high school newspaper. Kathleen Burke was the editor. I worshipped her intelligence. Only recently I learned she had died. Still have no idea how or when. Dick Teresi and Doug Armstrong were also on the newspaper team. Lost touch with both of them after our 20th high school reunion when we stole silverware from the hotel. Chuckle.
In high school, I was in the AP classes, which today would classify me as a geek. All I knew back then is that I felt I belonged with these people and not with the class council or cheerleaders. I wanted to interview the quarterback for the football team not date him. I called him for an interview and he never called me back. His last name was "Peterson" which was worth about six pages in the Robbinsdale phone book.
Fast forward to the University of Minnesota School of Journalism. I loved it there. I remember when Kennedy was shot; I remember when Cronkite lost his composure when he was reporting the news. I have trouble imagining any of today's anchors losing their composure.
Luckily I got to practice the art of journalism long before newspapers became archaic and long before Brian Williams and Katie Couric became the norm for the evening news. I no longer watch the evening news. I do read the New York Times every day. It's the only journalism that I trust.
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